


The Taste of Blood on My Tongue

by serenalunera



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood, Blood As Lube, Blood Kink, Blood licking, Bottom Daryl, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Hand Jobs, I'm Going to Hell, Kissing, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rickyl, Rickyl Writers' Group, Rickyl Writers' Group Bingo 2016, Smut, Spit As Lube, Top Rick, Tree Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 04:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6268813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenalunera/pseuds/serenalunera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A life-threatening encounter pushes Rick to act on his feelings. Daryl reciprocates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taste of Blood on My Tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Riastarstruck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riastarstruck/gifts).



> this here, commonly known as the blood fic, is a fill for the "Moonlight" square on my Bingo Card and a gift to [Ria](archiveofourown.org/users/riastarstruck/works) because she's the one who suggested blood lickage and helped come up with the contents ♥  
> this was beta-ed by the very nice [FandomLifeRookMyHandAndSaidRUN](archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeRookMyHandAndSaidRUN/works) :)

Time seems like such a strange concept when Rick watches the very person he can't live without escape the jaws of death by mere seconds. It turns into this bizarre mixture of both too fast and too slow, like the stab of a knife as it embeds itself in the meat of his loved one's shoulder, quick enough to puncture muscles but not enough to spare Rick from hearing the sounds of pure agony coming out of the victim's mouth. And then it's all a blur, from the brisk movements of Rick's boots on the ground, to the swift blow of his machete through the air before it finds its target and latches onto the man's arm, almost hard enough to sever it in one try.

A cry resounds and the man leaps to his feet, clutching his wound in hopes of stopping it from oozing too much blood – in vain. Time flies between the moment Rick makes eye contact with him and the moment his blade sinks into the man's throat, splattering his front and hands with so much blood Rick wonders briefly if seeing red is still a concept and not a reality, judging by the amount of coppery drops he feels pearling on his eyelashes as soon as the body drops uselessly to the floor. He barely registers the way in which the man clutches fruitlessly at his own neck, his focus solely on Daryl as the hunter rips the abandoned knife out of his shoulder in favor of tearing through the sputtering man's skull in one quick merciful motion.

Rick is almost positive time comes to a stop when he reaches down to help Daryl up and instead of letting him go, pulls him into his blood-soaked arms. There's a hitch in the hunter's breath when their bodies come in contact, but there is no resistance when Rick cradles him against his chest, burying his face in Daryl's sweat-damp hair and murmuring what sounds like both a prayer and a promise of eternal devotion. Honesty stems in Rick's voice, and when Daryl looks up, he sees it in his crimson covered eyes and feels it in the curve of his lips as they come crashing against his own, raw emotion pouring into him through the parted line of his mouth.

Strong hands clutch the back of Rick's jacket as they melt into each other, lips locking and unlocking in a feverish dance. The carmine droplets dotting Rick's mouth give off a metallic taste as Daryl sweeps his tongue across the man's bottom lip, a low moan escaping him when the other man takes it as an incentive to deepen the kiss. Instinct takes over then, and Rick backs Daryl up against the nearest tree, the archer's back hitting the bark with a quiet thud – too quiet to cover up how strained his breathing sounds against Rick's lips. The kiss quickly turns urgent, Rick's lips claiming Daryl's almost forcefully as their bodies slot together against the tree trunk, not an inch of space between them, even as Rick pulls away from Daryl's greedy mouth to rest their foreheads together a couple of minutes later.

“Daryl-,” Rick never has a chance to finish his sentence, the archer's lips embracing his own enough to deter him from uttering another word, the taste of his mouth so sweet Rick loses track of time, his mind spinning with every press of Daryl's lips.

“Please.” Daryl whimpers across Rick's mouth, the word so quiet the other man barely hears it. Understanding dawns on Rick as he looks into the archer's eyes, his own desire reflected in the desaturated blues that make up Daryl's irises.

A shiver runs down his spine at the sight, his blood running hot and thrumming in his veins as Rick lets go of his doubt in favor of holding onto Daryl a little harder, tugging on his vest to get it out of the way. Daryl helps him by attempting to remove the garment himself, but Rick shushes him and simply pulls the hunter's shirt open enough to reveal most of his chest and his uninjured shoulder. A low rumble settles in Rick's throat as his eyes skim over the other man's naked skin, appreciating the play of light and shadow the moon creates and the way his protruding hipbones lead his gaze downwards – to the delicious trail of hair right above the waistband of his pants.

Rick has the pleasure of witnessing the roll of the other man's stomach as Daryl reaches for him, fisting his hands in the collar of his jacket and bringing him in for a fierce kiss. Sticky fingers fumble with the hunter's belt and jeans until they ply open beneath them, while Daryl busies himself with the buttons on Rick's shirt, snapping them open with little patience. Daryl exposes the former deputy's chest as soon as he's done, warm palms ghosting down the length of his abdomen almost too reverently, as if touching Rick skin to skin will break whatever spell they've put themselves in.

Blood-stained lips make their way from their sisters to the patch of skin just beneath Daryl's ear, the hunter's breath stuttering as Rick's fingers slip past the waistband of his jeans to wrap around his aching length in a firm hold, his free hand remaining on the archer's narrow waist. The back of Daryl's head hits the tree bark with a thud, his breathing labored as he feels the material of his pants slide down his legs to pool around his ankles, leaving him both trapped and exposed. Rick sucks in a breath at the sight, pulling back just enough to take everything in, from the flush steadily creeping down Daryl's chest to the way his hipbones jut out invitingly, displaying the archer's swollen shaft as it rests against his belly, delicately cradled in the palm of Rick's tainted hand.

There is a stark contrast between Rick's scarlet-colored fingers and the pale skin of Daryl's lower abdomen, the flush of his cock not nearly bright enough to compete with the blood percolating on Rick's hands. The former deputy graces him with a long stroke, pushing his thumb against the spot right underneath the crown, a strangled moan escaping Daryl's lips along with the short bursts of air he manages to let out into the space between them, smoky tendrils kissing Rick's face with every exhale. The sensation of Rick's fingers on him is almost too much, and Daryl only barely manages to stay on his feet as the other man starts rubbing his length more firmly, establishing a slow yet rewarding pace.

Every brush of Rick's blood-coated fingers on his throbbing shaft sparks a flame inside of Daryl, his nerves catching on fire and burning moans right out of his throat with every pump of Rick's wrist. The fabric of the other man's collar bunches up in his grasp, his knuckles turning white with how hard Daryl is clutching the material, as if he were a man at sea and the jacket the only thing preventing him from drowning. He's gasping for air now, he knows he is, and the man in his arms proves generous enough to slow down the movements of his hand and crash his mouth against Daryl's, infusing him with so much love and affection Daryl feels his desire swell to the brink of implosion.

Just as Daryl is about to beg him for mercy, Rick pulls his hand back and places it on his hip, coaxing the hunter into turning around with gentle touches and soothing whispers. Daryl lets him, his mind fuzzy with pleasure as he absent-mindedly kicks both shoes and pants off and braces himself against the bark of the tree. An involuntary groan pushes past the barrier of his lips at the warmth that envelops him when Rick covers his body with his own, strong arms wrapping themselves around his middle within seconds. Goosebumps break all over Daryl's body as the man's mouth travels down the column of his throat, the scratch of his beard along the fragile skin tearing another helpless moan out of him.

“I want you.” Rick near whimpers in his ear as he brings his still clothed hips flush with Daryl's naked behind, clever fingers pressing into the dips of the hunter's waist, leaving bloody fingerprints in their wake. “Always have.” Rick murmurs, his fingers whisper-soft as they crawl down the length of Daryl's pelvis in crimson streaks to wrap around his shaft once more.

“Then do it. I can't-,” Daryl has to bite down on his lip hard to stifle another groan, the sound still managing to make it out of his throat when Rick tightens his hold on his erection and brings his free hand upwards, carmine fingers ghosting over his chest – the only indication that they have made contact with the skin laying in the bloody imprints left behind.

“I know. I will. Just need you to relax for me first.” Rick breathes against Daryl's throat, teeth catching on the lobe of the hunter's ear in a display of both affection and possessiveness. Daryl bites back another moan when the other man's fingers make contact with his lips, staining them cherry red before breaching the thin line of his mouth, the archer welcoming them on his tongue in a heartbeat.

Rick lets Daryl suck on his fingers until he deems them wet enough, removing them from within the hunter's mouth with all the gentleness he can muster. A string of pearly-pink saliva clings to them until it breaks, dribbling down Daryl's chin as Rick brings his hand further down his body, fingers disappearing between parted thighs. Rick finds what he's looking for without any trouble, Daryl's gasp echoing in the stillness of the night when the former deputy's index finger circles his entrance, rubbing over the rim until it turns pliant and the very tip of his finger slides in.

Rick takes his time working Daryl open – not only because he needs to dampen his fingers a few more times throughout the process for them to breach the archer properly, but also because the little desperate sounds Daryl makes every time Rick brushes his insides just right are quickly becoming addictive. The noises coming out of Daryl's mouth are so enslaving Rick can't help but seek them out in any way he can, crooking his fingers and sucking on the sensitive skin of Daryl's throat every chance he gets, happy to find out that the graze of his beard against the hunter's neck wrings out the softest of melodies out of him. Whispers of sweet nothings into his ear and murmurs of filthy scenarios against his jawline paired with the deep thrusts of three of his fingers turn Daryl into a moaning, panting mess, his body mellow against Rick's front and hot around his fingers.

“I know you're close, sweetheart. I can feel it. Can feel you trembling in my arms.” Rick sighs against Daryl's ear, his tongue coming out to play along the shell, a tremor running through the archer's spine at the feeling.

“Rick-,” Daryl groans deep and long, panting for air and scrambling for purchase on the bark of the tree as the other man's fingers press down hard on his prostate and the strokes of his palm on his tumescent length become more and more insistent.

“I need you to let go, Daryl. Let go and come for me.” Rick whispers, hot breath ghosting over Daryl's ear as his caresses become more purposeful. Rick squeezes the head of the other man's cock every other upstroke, pushing his thumb into the slit and rubbing circles along the underside, his fingers diving deeper and crooking farther inside of Daryl with every thrust.

It takes only a few more seconds for Daryl to climax, coming all over the tree bark in a strangled cry as Rick milks him dry, his fingers relentless against the hunter's inner walls until he is sure there is nothing left to spill. Rick takes great care in removing his fingers from Daryl's body, the archer like a ragdoll in his arms as the former deputy turns him around to cradle him close, using the tree to support the weight he can't carry. Daryl is panting hard now, hot puffs of air dying against Rick's throat in irregular patterns, warming up the skin there. Rick smiles against Daryl's hair, nuzzling the damp strands as his hands slip under his shirt to rub up and down his back soothingly, slowly bringing Daryl down from the high of his orgasm. They stay quiet for a long time, simply enjoying the warmth and proximity their embrace gives them, as well as the sense of security it provides.

The tug of Daryl's fingers on Rick's belt buckle is enough to bring them both out of the trance they've put themselves in, the hunter making short work of both of Rick's belts as the other man searches his lips with his own. The belts hit the ground in a clatter, not at all disturbing the way in which Rick is claiming Daryl's lips in a repeat of one of their earlier kisses. There is a hint of urgency on Rick's part, his tongue eager and exploratory against Daryl's while the archer frees him from his pants, his hand warm and rough around the red-hot flesh of Rick's throbbing length.

Daryl pulls back to spit in his palm and spread it over Rick's shaft in long pulls, slicking it up as best he can with the limited amount of lubrication available. Rick rests his forehead against Daryl's, sharp teeth coming out to bite down on his lower lip to stifle the little growls of impatience threatening to fall from his mouth at any given moment. A soft smile tugs the corner of Daryl's lips upwards as he leans in for a short kiss, letting go of Rick's cock to cup the side of his face, fingers dipping in the cardinal rivers running through the man's thick, wiry beard.

“C'mon now, big guy. 'M relaxed enough.” Daryl purrs, the peace settled in his bones seeping through his voice as he wraps his arms around Rick's shoulders, bringing him as close as he can get him before crashing their mouths together once again.

Rick is quick to respond, red-laced hands sliding down the hunter's back to wrap around his thighs. Using the tree as leverage, Rick lifts him clean off the ground, Daryl's legs instinctively tangling around the former deputy's waist like vines. Rick breaks the kiss after a few more seconds, shifting on his feet to brace more of Daryl's weight against the tree as he aligns himself with the archer's loosened entrance. Rick eases in, lifting his eyes from their point of connection to gaze upon Daryl's face and marvel in the array of emotions he sees displayed there. There's a deep flush creeping down the man's neck and torso, pearls of sweat running down his throat into the crevice of his collar bone, a few stray drops making their way down to the dip of his navel and pooling there.

Daryl's face is open and raw, all the sensations coursing through his body reflecting in his eyes and the lines of his skin. His brow creases in mild discomfort, but the man is quick to nod as Rick tilts his head questioningly, giving him permission to breach him further. Rick takes his time, sliding in at the slowest pace he can manage until he finds himself fully sheathed within Daryl's walls, his grip on the hunter's thighs white-knuckled and bloody. They're both breathing hard by the time Rick starts moving, hot puffs of air flying through the space between them, warm and wet against their skin.

It takes a few more minutes for Rick to find a steady pace, lovely little moans escaping Daryl's mouth every now and then, overpowering the quiet grunts he lets out almost every time Rick pushes back in. The former deputy is a mess of harsh pants and low groans as he peers down between them to watch Daryl's shaft slowly filling out again, flushed pink and painted crimson by Rick's earlier ministrations. The sight alone tears a growl out of Rick, and he quickens his thrusts, driving into Daryl more forcefully and wringing a series of desperate whines out of him. The sinful sounds coming out of Daryl's mouth are enough for Rick to lose himself to the sensations the hunter's body provides, his slick, warm walls welcoming the vicious slams of his hips in the best of ways.

One particularly powerful thrust has Daryl throwing his head back, the top of his skull hitting the bark of the tree hard as a wanton moan makes its way past his parted lips. His eyes are screwed shut, features contorted in rapture as Rick keeps assaulting the same spot over and over again, tearing groan after groan out of his mouth. The sight of Daryl's exposed throat draws Rick in like he's been hypnotized, compelling him into sinking his canines in the offered flesh. The dual sensation of teeth and cock piercing his body wrings something that sounds a lot like a sob out of Daryl, who bares his neck further and reaches blindly for Rick's hair, fingertips digging in the former deputy's scalp.

Rick's moans dance across Daryl's throat, shivers running down the archer's spine at the feeling. Daryl's eyes finally flutter open, his gaze instantly falling on the pool of blood a little ways away from them, shining eerily in the moonlight. As realization of where they are dawns on him, Daryl chooses to ignore it – or is rather forced to ignore it by the renewed vigor of Rick's hips, his thrusts relentless and his cock merciless inside of him. Little fucked out groans make it past Daryl's lips, his voice cracking on a growl of pleasure as he feels himself ready to tumble over the edge of his lust, nails scraping over Rick's nape and the fabric of his jacket.

“Fuck, Rick-,” Daryl interrupts himself with a whine, thighs trembling as they tighten around Rick's waist, his plea for the other man to slow down lest he comes early barely above a whisper, the words muffled against the crown of Rick's head.

“Shh. I got you, baby. Just hold on.” Rick murmurs, sanguine lips finding the hunter's ear once more. He shifts, putting most of Daryl's weight back on him as he lowers them to the ground until he finds himself sitting back on his haunches with his lover in his lap, Daryl's back braced against the tree trunk.

The archer sighs, lust-blown eyes finding Rick's as they settle as comfortably as they can on the ground, harsh pants flowing through the air between them in silver bursts of steam. Daryl manages a small, happy smile before he brings his lover in for a kiss, fingers curling in the wavy strands of Rick's hair while the other man's hands move up to Daryl's sides, stroking the thin skin of his ribs with feather-light touches. Rick doesn't stay still for long, the leader choosing to roll his hips in slow, torturous circles instead of resuming the rapid pace of his thrusts, barely leaving the warmth of Daryl's body as he moves within him.

Their lips part after a few more minutes of their hips coiling together, Daryl's head lolling to the side to rest on Rick's shoulder, exposing his throat for the taking once more. Rick smiles, admiring the purpling bruise already forming on the archer's neck, and chooses to latch on to that very same spot again, sucking the abused skin into his mouth and securing it there with his teeth. Daryl growls, a low rumble rising from his chest as the other man marks him, the feeling making him dizzy with arousal. Rick breaks away right when the sensation starts bordering on painful, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Daryl's good shoulder, a perfect mirror of the other man's position.

A wet sensation on his neck brings Rick back out of the daze the embrace has put him in, his breath hitching in his throat when he realizes what that implies. Daryl is _licking_ him, his tongue tracing the lines of his neck and lapping up the blood he finds there, cleaning Rick – cleansing him. Rick's skin is bitter with copper, the metallic tang mixing with his own intoxicating animal taste turning sweet on Daryl's tongue, and the hunter can't help the moan that breaks out of his mouth as the crimson liquid pours down his throat with every swipe of his tongue.

The flavor keeps getting richer and richer, the aroma filling his nose so addictive he can't stop himself from nuzzling Rick's throat, pressing his whole face into the crook of his neck and breathing him in. Daryl loses himself in the smell of blood blending in with a scent that is so distinctively Rick it makes his head spin, his nose burning with the sting of copper and his tongue begging for more. The archer doesn't stop there, licking his way up Rick's throat until his lips are red and sore from the bite of Rick's beard, and he buries his nose in it, reveling in the prickle of the man's coarse hair against his skin. Rick chooses that moment to turn his head, capturing Daryl's mouth with his in a heated kiss, soothing the abused flesh with the pressure of his own.

Rick moans into the kiss, the taste of blood mixing in with the flavor of Daryl's mouth on his tongue leaving him light-headed. His mind is fogged up by desire and primal instinct, his eyes squeezing shut as the eagerness they both show increases the friction between them, Rick's cock sliding just that little bit deeper inside of Daryl with every lazy roll of his hips. There's a fire building up at their core, sparks flying every which way in the pits of their stomach, feeding the flame until it burns out with the blinding pleasure of their orgasm. It's sudden, almost unexpected in its intensity, but both men welcome the rapture with open arms, breathy moans dying against one another's lips as they move together one last time.

Rick doesn't dare pulling back until they have both regained some sort of a regular breathing pattern, the first thing he sees when he does being Daryl's gorgeous sex flushed face, strands of hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. Rick smiles, one of his hands coming up to push the archer's bangs out of his eyes and leaving a scarlet trail in its wake, alighting Daryl's cheekbone with traces of copper. Rick's stare moves downwards, only coming to a stop when he comes across the crimson fingerprints adorning the hunter's body, illuminated by the moon peeking through the trees – a striking testimony of Daryl's devotion to him painted all over his flesh, blood on skin like oil on canvas. He's covered in them, from the tantalizing slope of his neck to the alluring curve of his thighs, finger-shaped stains imprinted on the pale skin of his hips, countless marks of possession laid bare for their perpetrator to see.

“Hey, you with me?” Daryl breathes, Rick's breath catching as the archer lays an uncharacteristically gentle hand on his cheek, tilting his head up so their eyes can meet, something Rick would identify as happiness shining in Daryl's stormy irises – which Rick mirrors wholeheartedly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm with you.” Rick whispers back, the hidden meaning behind his words coaxing a smile out of Daryl, who leans in to take Rick's mouth in a chaste kiss, their lips sealing on a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @[serenalunera](http://serenalunera.tumblr.com)


End file.
